


Take These Pieces

by Vampykitty_kun



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Improper use of magic, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mind Manipulation, Mindwiping, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Pre-Reboot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2566658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampykitty_kun/pseuds/Vampykitty_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted his life back, to go home, and he wanted… he wanted Bruce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take These Pieces

It was one of those nights where patrol was not possible, where no amount of bones breaking under his punches, or blood splattering against alley walls as result of his bullets ripping through flesh would ease the turmoil in his head.

He locked himself away nestled safely within a barricaded warehouse. The outside world was overwhelming, the city much too loud with too many people and so much danger, yet his flops- _safe houses_ were small. Made him feel confined, restricted, and trapped… not _safe_ , and that was what he needed right now, not yet another thing to make him feel ill. His stomach was in knots and even the small alleyways had seemed like they had been closing in on him, swallowing him whole, ripping the oxygen from his lungs.

The warehouse was large. Walls thick enough to drown out the noise, lights bright enough to drive away the dark, and steel doors strong enough to keep everyone and everything out. No one could hear his screams of anguish, see him fall to the floor in a sobbing emotional mess as the tremors brought him to his knees, or him dig his nails into the back of his neck as he tucked his head between them and struggled to breath.

He thought that he had been done with this… that the panic attacks had stopped. But it had clearly only been wishful thinking. He would never be cured. He had _died_ \- nothing was going to change that. He could not will away his nightmares.

He just wanted this to end. Things had never gone the way he had planned- nothing had ever been right after, and he was never sure if the voices in the back of his head were result of the torture he had endured or the pool of acid green that had unlocked the damage it had caused. His memories were muddled from before it, so much time lost in his head from once he had awakened to when Talia had been throwing him from the cliff, and much of the time after was filled with so much anger and hurt that he had been able to focus on little else.

He wanted his life back, to go home, and he wanted… he wanted _Bruce_.

He could not take living like this anymore, and yet… he knew he was not welcome, that he never would be after all that he had done- what he had _become_.

While the hours passed in solitude, the contents of his stomach left him, his knuckles split as they repeatedly collided with the steel walls, and he could only think of one single solution to all his troubles… and it relied heavily upon one man’s willingness to give him a second chance and make a hard call…

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He had put up little fight when Bruce had lunged at him hours later atop the dock he had set fire to in effort to lure the man out from the shadows. This alone had seemingly been enough to stop the potential brawl all together and cause the man to proceed with caution. He had forgone the helmet and domino completely despite how exposed it made him feel, and in the end it was perhaps this alone that had put things in his favor… there was no doubt in his mind that Bruce could see just how _tired_ he was, the dark circles beneath his eyes evidence enough, let alone how red and puffy they must have been after the long frustrated cry he had had in the hours beforehand.

He was honestly unsure of the words that must have spewed from his mouth or how garbled and broken they must have been as the hysterics had bubbled up once more now that he was before the man, just that he must have gotten his point across well enough because one moment he was crumpled on the pavement, and the next he was being enveloped in cape and smothered with kevlar as strong arms wrapped around him and lift him up off the ground. His head throbbed as he was whisked away and he only registered the fact that he was in the car when the smell of the leather seats invaded his senses and the engine roared to life.

He felt so sick, and yet there was nothing left the heave up, so all he could do was curl tighter upon himself as he drew in deep breaths and a thick arm held him tighter against the man’s side.

Time had moved so slowly and the ride had seemed to go on for hours. He hadn’t even realized that he had passed out until he was being lifted into Bruce’s arms, but all he had been able to do was cling, press his face into the crook of the man’s neck, and draw in deep gulps of air as he was swept into the building.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He lay on his stomach, face pressed against a warm chest, a leg wrapped around the man’s bare thigh as he drifted in and out of sleep. Bruce ran a hand through his hair- an effort to sooth the both of them he was sure.

He had forced Bruce’s hand… had him follow through with an immoral plan that he had known would take a toll on the man, and yet all the same he was sure that neither of them would be able to bring themselves to regret it.

They were in London somewhere. That much he knew.

Dick would continue to take care of Gotham, as he had been… with one less thorn in his side however.

Bruce would take care of him now. He was stable- _happy_ even. The nightmares had stopped, the voices in the back of his head had ceased their rambling, and everything was right in his world.

So his sense of peace wasn’t exactly _natural_ … so what? Not a single damn thing had been since he had returned.

He had been a consenting adult. He had known going in exactly what was going to happen. He remembered even now despite some things being really fuzzy. Bruce had taken him- he had been _reluctant_ , and Jason had expected as much, but he had clearly seen his desperation and known it was the only way to fix things… to fix _him_. He had called in the favor, a repayment of sorts for having been tampered with himself, and although Zatanna had been hesitant… Well, he wasn’t quite sure what he was missing, just that it had to be all the right things, because here he was tucked up beside Bruce and he had never thought in a million years that it would be possible, let alone it be anxiety free.

And this had been what he had desired.

He wanted to feel safe, be untarnished by horrid memories and licks of insanity that surfaced at will, and most of all?

He had wanted _Bruce_ \- had wanted Bruce to want him back in his life, to be able to trust him again.

It didn’t feel like a sacrifice at all.

The magician could keep whatever memories she took.

He had never wanted them anyway…


End file.
